Ice in Your Veins
by NoxDelta
Summary: Nora has spent a year in the Commonwealth and finds herself in the town of Goodneighbor, trying to keep the Minutemen afloat. Only, there's a certain ghoul of a mayor standing in her way… John Hancock x F! Sole Survivor (Available at AO3, uncensored)
1. Chapter 1

The first time she walked into Goodneighbor, Nora hadn't known what to expect. It was tucked away in the darkness of the Common, which had been a real bitch to get through alive, she had to say. Dogmeat padded along at her side without a scratch on him; something miraculous, compared to the cuts and bruises littering her limbs. Seeing the signs leading forward put a little pep back in her step, as she was curious about the haven she'd heard about from Preston.

Once she'd finally been waved through the metal door, of course, the first thing she saw was the tell-tale grin of a shark. He was dirty, and smoking a cigarette that clouded the air in front of her. She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose in distaste. It had been nearly a year since her escape from the Vault, and she still couldn't get used to the grime and filth of this world.

"Hold up there." The dingy man held out his hand to stop her. "First time in Goodneighbor? Can't go walking around without insurance."

She knew enough about this strange world to understand that, at least. The man wanted money to leave her alone. It was too bad for him that she really /had/ no caps; not after Diamond City, where she'd bought some direly needed ammunition. She still didn't know where they got it from, but she wasn't one to complain.

"Look, I don't have any money." Maybe she could persuade him. "I came looking for work."

Nora watched the wheels turning in the extortionist's head. Dogmeat gave a warning growl.

"You got clothes, and weapons." The stranger leaned in with a toothy smile. "Unless you wanna work out your payment in another way?"

Men hadn't changed much these last 200 years. Just as she thought that, a vivid memory blinded her for a moment; Nate telling off a handsy bus rider on their way to her parents. She could remember the booze on the man's breath, Nate angrily pulling his hand away from her ass. The guilty thrill of her boyfriend's protectiveness. How she'd been nervous to ride alone again.

The grief that followed hardened her gaze and must have spoken much, because the man in front of her reached warningly for the holster at his side.

"Whoa, whoa. Time out."

Both of their heads jerked to the left, where a man waded out of the shadows. A very... oddly dressed man. At first she thought pirate, but a vague memory from her school days said American Revolution. The clothes themselves looked filthy and ancient, and patched multiple times. And she would have said that was the most notable thing about him, but for the ragged landscape of his skin.

A ghoul. That was another thing she was having trouble getting used to. During those first horrific weeks of her new life, the first ghouls she'd met were feral; gaping jaws and ragged clothes, crawling out of the trash and decay like roaches. Then she'd seen the sane ones, scrounging out lives in the Commonwealth and she'd been unable to stop the wave of pity that followed. The first few times, she admitted with some shame, she couldn't look them in the eye.

This one seemed different though.

"Someone steps through the gate the first time, they're a guest." The ghoul continued forward, a stern look on his face. The look of a man who held some power and knew it. "You lay off that extortion crap."

"What d'you care? She ain't one of us." There was a petulant tone to the first man's voice that she disliked almost as much as his lecherous sneer from before.

"No love for your Mayor, Finn? I said let her go." The ghoul replied.

"You're soft, Hancock." Finn, she supposed, spat out. The ghoul's black eyes narrowed. "You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, one day there'll be a new mayor."

Nora hadn't noticed before, but there were two armed guards in suits who had been watching the whole exchange. They shifted awkwardly and had nervous expressions; they were probably kicking themselves for not interfering before. She doubted they were supposed to let this sort of thing happen.

At first, she thought the threat would go ignored. The mayor- Hancock- approached Finn with a lanky, chapped grin. "Come on, man. This is me we're talking about. Let me tell you something."

It happened so smoothly she could have blinked and never noticed. The mayor lifted his arm as if to give Finn a pat on the shoulder, just as his other hand drove a knife into Finn's stomach twice in quick succession. The ruthless efficiency caught her off guard; she had to step back as the man crumpled to her feet in a bloody heap.

She should have been immune to the shock of death by now, but watching the life drain from a body still left her veins cold. She swallowed and waited as the mayor coolly wiped his knife clean on a stained handkerchief from inside his coat.

 _This man could kill me and never flinch_.

"Now why'd you have to go and say that, huh? Breaking my heart over here." Hancock sighed at the corpse. Then he turned to her for the first time since the conversation began. "You all right, sister?"

It took her a minute to register, but she nodded and swallowed. Despite all that had just happened, he didn't look hostile. Then again, Finn had probably thought so too. Best to be careful just in case.

"Yeah, I, uh..." She floundered for something to say. "You didn't have to do that for me." Not exactly the confident thanks she'd been hoping for, but it would do.

"A mayor's got to make a point once in a while. Goodneighbor's of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone's welcome." He said. "So long as you remember who's in charge."

This last part was said with a sharper edge, so she nodded quickly in response. Staying on his good side seemed like a reasonable goal; he was the mayor, after all.

"Of the people, for the people. Got it." She held back the ludicrous urge to salute. She doubted he would appreciate the humor.

He studied her for a moment before turning towards a stately looking ruin to the left of the gate."Good, I'm glad we agree."

It wasn't until he was inside that she let out the lungs full of air she'd been holding and saw the passerby disappear back into the shacks, as if nothing had happened. The only evidence was the corpse spilling blood out onto the pavement.

Maybe Preston had been wrong about this place. As far as Nora was concerned, it was already a grimy deathtrap with a cold-blooded mayor and disinterested locals. Not exactly Minutemen material.

She stepped gingerly to the side and gestured for Dogmeat to follow her into the nearest local shop.

Best to do what they'd came for and get out of town as soon as possible.

* * *

"That was awfully nice of you."

Hancock didn't turn around as he walked up the stairs. He knew who it was that was trailing behind him- it was her job, after all.

"Nice wouldn't be how I'd put it. I'd prefer "necessary." Hancock said as he and Fahrenheit entered his office. "Finn shouldn't have been bothering newcomers, and I've warned him for weeks."

"I've been telling you that for just as long," Fahrenheit scoffed, "and you only got off your ass when a pretty face walked in."

Hancock barked out a laugh and fell backwards onto one of the couches, ignoring the squeal of old springs. Fahrenheit simply folded her arms and gave him an arched brow.

"What, I can't be chivalrous once in a while?" He asked with a cheeky grin matching her own. "So I saved a dame a few caps. Big deal. Don't sound so jealous." He clasped a bottle of opened wine from the table and took a swig.

"I'm not jealous, I'm moved." Fahrenheit said. "In fact, I think it's good for you. You could use some female company."

" _You're_ female company. And so's Daisy, and Kleo, and whatsername from the back street-"

"In your dreams. I'm just saying, maybe you should start thinking about a little... stability."

Of all the things he'd expected to come out of her mouth, that wasn't it. Fahrenheit was a tough bitch who would sooner rip out a man's heart than settle down. He figured they had that in common.

Hancock peered at her from over his bottle. Quietly, he said, "What's this about, Fahrenheit."

She went quiet as well, shifting her weight and pondering her words. Finally, she responded, "You've been doing a lot of chems, boss. More than usual."

Hancock appeared to consider her words for a long moment. Finally he wiped his face on his sleeve and sat upright, putting the bottle down and clasping his hands.

It wasn't as if she was wrong. Fahrenheit had eyes like a hawk, and was loyal as hell. He just hadn't figured that his little breaks were that frequent. Sure, he'd had a few mentats, and some buffout, and a little cocktail of jet and psycho about an hour before...

"I'm a grown man." He finally responded, sighing and raking his hand under his tricorner hat. "I get that you're concerned, but I know what I'm doing."

"I know, I just thought... nevermind." Fahrenheit threw up her hands and turned towards the door. "Just don't shoot up so much we can't eat, alright?"

"Ah, fuck you." Hancock fired after her without much bite. The absence left him with his thoughts; and he found them drifting to the doe-eyed newcomer with the dog. He hadn't caught her name.


	2. Chapter 2

Daisy was the first one she talked to, and in hindsight she was grateful for it. The ghoul was wary at first, but looked eager to have fresh blood around to chat with. Goodneighbor was surprisingly small, once Nora had wandered the streets.

"So you've been frozen all these years, huh?" Daisy let out a sigh. "Damn Vault-Tec. Never trusted 'em. Crossed myself off those papers first chance I got, and look at me now, still kickin'."

"I have to agree there." Nora nodded solemnly and patted Dogmeat's head. She sometimes wondered in the guiltiest part of her mind whether it wouldn't have been better to stay out of the Vault altogether; to die with her family around her as opposed to scrounging in a dead world. After discovering the truth about Shaun, the thought had become just a little stronger, but she still stifled it as best she could. Her son was living a full life, whatever she thought about it, and a mother couldn't ask for more than that.

To this day she had trouble reconciling the sweet, innocent child of her memories with the ever-smiling "Father" he had become. And yet she loved him and wished him well, even as his Institute terrorized the Commonwealth. Was that cruel?

Daisy seemed to notice her thoughts and interrupted. "You know, if you're looking for work, you look like you can handle yourself. There's a library in the Common that I have fond memories of, and it's been overrun with Supermutants. You clear those lumbering brutes out of there, I'll pay you 200 caps."

Nora considered it. Supermutants meant good money; she could pawn off their weapons for more than what Daisy offered, and maybe find some medical supplies. Not to mention she liked the idea of making the Common just a little safer, if the Minutemen's plans worked out.

"You've got yourself a-"

All at once she heard Dogmeat bark at her from behind, and the sensation of something rummaging through her satchel. She turned and grabbed for the hand in her bag, only to find it smaller than she'd expected.

"S-sorry." It was a little boy, a drifter most likely, with a grubby face and filthy clothes. He quivered and tugged at his wrist weakly, knowing he was caught. She wasn't sure what to do.

"Malcolm! You crazy fool, didn't you just see Hancock gut that man for bein' rude?" Daisy barked at him. Apparently he was a local. "You want that, huh?"

The boy paled and shook his head vigorously. Nora softened her grip and studied him; he couldn't be much older than ten. Too young to make good caps, too old for the crueler folks to ignore his antics.

"I don't have much in the way of caps," Nora kneeled in front of him. "Not yet, anyway. But when I get back I could use a hand cleaning some weapons and armor for sale."

Malcolm's fearful expression changed to one of elatement.

"If you stay out of trouble," Nora continued in her best motherly voice, "I'll hire you and teach you how to clean a weapon." Then, maybe the boy could earn a decent living. Laziness was still common, especially among mercs; they just might appreciate handing off the chore to a child for a few caps. It wasn't ideal, but it was the best she could offer.

"You mean it?" Malcolm grinned. Nora nodded. The boy whooped and she let him go to run off.

"Good of you to do that. It'll keep him out of trouble." Daisy said, wiping her counter with a dirty cloth. "Most folks would have kicked him for pulling that, though."

"I'm a mother." Nora shrugged and stood up again, dusting off her knees.

"You must be." Daisy agreed solemnly. For a moment neither would look each other in the face, until Daisy straightened and continued, "Well, if you're heading out to the library, let me give you a book to bring back with you. Don't ask me how long it's been overdue."

Nora nearly laughed; it was ludicrous, really, what one would do for sentiment. But maybe that gave them something in common.

* * *

Nora was true to her word, and returned from the library a few days later with only cuts and laden with weapons and armor. Nobody accosted her at the gate this time, except for Malcolm, who was eager to get started. She let the boy help her carry the cache to a dark corner, where together they scraped off the blood with knives and adjusted the armor to human proportions.

"Thanks for bein' nice to me, lady." Malcolm said after a while. With a bit of practice, he was getting deft with the knife. Nora figured she should let him keep it.

"Pickpocketing is no way to make a living." She said firmly. "It'll get you killed."

"Yeah, but nobody else would teach me nothing."

"Well, now you know a little more." Nora smiled at him. The scene was more domestic than what she was getting used to, and she wondered if she'd found Shaun as a baby, liked she'd hoped... would their lives have looked like this? Conversations over the remains of the dead?

Perhaps Shaun had been given a better life than she'd first thought.

"So, you have to promise now that you'll always try to make an honest living from now on." She said, and Malcolm eagerly nodded. Then his eyes turned upwards, behind where she sat.

"Hancock!" Malcolm announced, and Nora froze.

"Heya, kiddo." The raspy voice would have given him away if Malcolm hadn't. Nora turned around and there Hancock stood, in all his patriotic glory. From where she was sitting she could see Finn's blood still splattered all over his boots.

She really wasn't sure what to think of him. The locals loved him, that was clear from the adulation on Malcolm's face. But he was also a calm and collected killer; exactly the type she'd put in jail, once upon a time. It was hard to mesh the current sensibilities of life with her old morals, and Hancock was poised in the crossfire.

She still managed a smile and would have moved to stand up, if Hancock didn't immediately sink to his haunches and pick up a rifle from the pile.

"Not bad." He turned it in his hands, which Nora would have assumed would be stiff. Instead she was surprised to watch them trace over the barrel with surprising delicacy. "Keep this up, and I might just hire you myself."

Malcolm looked ecstatic.

Hancock turned to her after a moment, and she was suddenly aware they were two feet away from each other and staring face-to-face.

"Nora, is it?" Hancock said.

"...yes." She replied lamely. She wasn't sure where her voice went when he was around.

"You should come up to my office sometime." Hancock gave her a marred grin and stood back up. "Newcomers usually get the tour."

And with that he turned around, coat whipping backwards as he walked back to the main street.

Nora blinked after him and found her sleeve being tugged on by Malcolm.

"You gotta do it!" Malcolm said excitedly.

Nora's lips twitched weakly.

* * *

The next day was spent exploring more of the neighborhood and meeting the locals.

Every so often she would mention the Minutemen, and the more she talked, the more people listened. Kleo had even asked if the Minutemen were looking for a source of weapons. But for all her progress, she knew that eventually she'd need to brave the State House doors and actually talk to Hancock about an alliance.

It wasn't that she was scared, not really. He was an intimidating figure with quite the reputation. From what she'd gleaned, he'd hung the previous mayor from the balcony of the State House for his tyrannical streak. Everyone spoke fondly about it, so she'd just nodded agreeably and given the place a wide berth until now. If she'd had her way, she'd never need to breach that barrier at all... but again, Hancock practically owned the people's hearts. His approval meant everything.

So it was with a deep breath that she finally opened those white doors and stepped inside.

"Heya, toots." A ghoul guard cooed at her from under his fedora. He pointed upwards, where the spiral stairs led to, and she smiled back reflexively. "Boss's been expecting you."

Expecting her? That struck her as worrying. All at once she felt she was going to be judged, and she glanced at her clothing; a simple drifter's outfit, with a few pieces of armor. Clean as she could make it, thankfully.

She journeyed the stairs and passed two more guards into a relatively empty room. There were couches, and a door at the end that led to the balcony. On the parallel couches sat Hancock and Fahrenheit, Hancock's right hand. Nora had seen her around occasionally, prowling the streets like a cat. More than once she'd noticed the woman watching her.

"Well, well. Look who finally decided to pay her respects." Hancock drawled. He looked a little buzzed, and it was then that Nora noticed the mentats containers and bottles littering the coffee table.

She fought the urge to grimace. She had avoided chems before the war, and saw no reason to change that now. Nate, too, had refused to use them, even during his military service. The stuff was a crutch.

Still, what Hancock did was his business.

"I can come back later if this is a bad time." She said, stepping backwards. Hancock gestured for her to stop and he stood, tugging on his lapels. She wondered if he even knew what those were.

"Good a time as any." He approached with an easygoing gait and looked her dead in the eyes, black to green. "You've been helping out folks 'round town. I like that."

"I do my best." Nora shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant way.

"Uh huh. Look, I appreciate all you've done, so let's skip to the point." Hancock lit up a cigarette from within his jacket and motioned for her to sit down, beside Fahrenheit. Nora did so, giving the armored woman a wide berth.

"I want to know what all this talk about the Minutemen is about."

Ah, so he'd heard already. That saved her some time, but she fretted that she should have come and talked to him sooner.

"Well," she began, testing the water, "I'm with them, for one. And we've been going to local settlements to try and rebuild."

Hancock didn't look surprised like most people she mentioned this to, but then, he'd likely asked around. It wasn't difficult to put two and two together. Instead he took a drag on his cigarette, exhaled and frowned.

"So you came all the way out here to make some friends? Can't say I disapprove, but I ain't throwin' in if old events repeat themselves, ya feel me?"

Nora nodded and reached into her satchel, slowly, as Fahrenheit had a gun in her lap and a finger on the trigger. Out came a roll of vellum with a contract; standard, for the settlements she'd been to. Gave everybody some clarity and appealed to her old instincts. She unrolled it and held it out, and Hancock's sawtoothed fingers took it. He gave it a once-over and didn't look pleased.

"What's this about a tax on luxury items?" He batted the paper with the back of his hand and gave Nora an arched hairless brow. "That ain't gonna fly, sister, not round these parts."

She'd sort of guessed that, to be honest.

"It's usually to help pay for weapons and needed supplies, but it's negotiable." She explained. Fahrenheit remained silent and watchful. "Is there any other support you can provide, to help pay for some extra people defending this town?"

Moments ticked by as Hancock considered, all the while staring directly at her face. Nora shifted under his gaze, uncomfortable with how piercing his black eyes could be. If he was looking for dishonesty, he wouldn't find it; she didn't like lying. She'd been nothing but open, and the Minutemen truly needed these supply lines.

"I can probably get Kleo to offer a discount for you folks. And I own a bar- the Third Rail. I can pay you ten percent of the profit." Hancock finally answered, pulling a very old pen from his jacket. He then proceeded to cross out several lines on the list and add a few new ones, despite how she stiffened and struggled not to stop him. This was rapidly becoming an unfavourable bargain, considering she was bartering for a band of veritable cutthroats.

"That's... great." She forced a smile on her face and waited for him to sign, but he stuffed the vellum under his arm and stood up. Nora blinked at him in confusion and turned to Fahrenheit, who only smiled knowingly.

"I don't believe in signin' stuff on the first day. Lemme think it over, and meet me at my bar tomorrow around eight." Hancock faced the nearest window and all at once the meeting was over, without giving Nora time to refuse.

Her mouth moved but no sound came out. Clenching her fists she almost considered grabbing back the contract and walking out of town altogether. It would serve him right.

But then she thought of Malcolm, and Daisy, and she relaxed her hands. She couldn't pull a tantrum just because he'd turned the deal around on her. There were living people involved here, who needed defending.

Still, she wanted to punch him in his smug face.

"See you tomorrow, then." she gritted and stood up, making for the exit. It took all her strength not to slam the doors behind her and stomp down his stupid stairs.

Insufferable! Nora couldn't imagine the last time someone had screwed her over that fast. She'd really been hoping to leave town that night, but now she had the feeling she'd be around much longer, trying to renegotiate. She thought all of this as she left the building and went, fuming, to the Third Rail for food; cursing her knowledge now that he owned the damn place.

She never noticed that Hancock watched her stomp by from his balcony, cigarette to his lips and an amused smile on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

The Third Rail was surprisingly hospitable for a place of Goodneighbor's reputation. The furniture was in good shape, and the local guards were polite when she entered through the double doors. It was nicer even than the Dugout Inn in Diamond City, which she conceded reluctantly. The fact that the one nice place in Goodneighbor was owned by Hancock stuck in her craw.

She'd been inside a few times before, but the lull of Magnolia's voice always filled her with nostalgia. Before the war, she'd taken music for granted. Now, it was a comfort that Nora readily sought out whenever she could.

"I take it things didn't go well?"

Nora looked up from her plate of food just in time to watch MacCready sit down next to her at the bar. She didn't know if she could handle another smug man today; he'd been the one to doubt her, after all. She had tried to recruit him to the Minutemen initially, been politely shut down and then told that Hancock would hang her out to dry.

She'd been offended at the time, but now she had the benefit of hindsight.

"Better than you assumed." She replied cheerily.

"That ain't saying much." MacCready said and waved over the robot- Whitechapel Charlie- for a drink.

True.

"Don't take it personally, 'guv." Charlie chipped in with his thick accent. "He made time to talk to you; that's more than most folks get."

She wanted to argue, but thought better of it. Charlie worked for Hancock, and she had the feeling that complaining about him to his loyal employees wouldn't go over well. Even MacCready would probably sell her out for a few caps; they barely knew each other.

"Well, we're meeting tomorrow to talk it out. I can be pretty convincing." Nora said, firmly. She had pride in her old days of negotiation and paperwork, whatever that was worth now. All she needed to do was make Hancock sign the contract.

"And he's pretty good at screwing folks over. Least, ones who ask for it." Cheeky bastard. "I'd say skip town tonight and forget about this place."

Nora frowned into her plate. She'd considered it earlier, and the more she saw of this place the more she worried. Goodneighbor was shameless in its depravity, enjoying success as a hub of drugs and death. MacCready was like many mercenaries, who made the town their office and raked in caps off of corpses. There were decent people too, and a sense of community that not many towns enjoyed, but she had the feeling that democracy and civil justice would have trouble flourishing here.

She shook her head free of her worries and exhaled. Regardless of her concerns, she had a job to do, and she wanted to go back to Sanctuary with a clear conscience.

"No, I'm staying." She said. "The Minutemen could really help this town. Make it respectable."

MacCready just snorted and the bar keeping robot gave her an odd look. Like she'd grown another head.

"Look, Goodneighbor's got its own little charm. But if you want to waste your time, go ahead." MacCready shrugged and drank from the tankard Charlie offered him.

Like the chems, Nora avoided booze when she could. It was expensive and too easy to get caught up in, but those were the practical reasons. Personally speaking, she just preferred having a clear head; especially these days, when danger was as pervasive as the radiation.

She thought back to Hancock and his habits, and wondered idly how on earth he managed to run a town high _and_ drunk out of his mind. Not that he didn't seem to be doing it well; he was, in many ways. Everyone admired him and the place was, like the Third Rail, kept well in order. She had to respect him for that, whatever she thought of him personally. She didn't hate him either, not really... there was just something about him that made her adrenaline kick in. Like walking onto a street in the common, not knowing what might be lurking about.

Of course, she could still be deeply annoyed at his coy antics.

She and MacCready had fallen into a companionable silence, one she took advantage of and finished off her food. She nodded to MacCready and instinctively reached into her satchel and put a few caps down on the table.

"Here." she pushed the tip towards Charlie, whose eyes shuttered at her in surprise.

"The hell's this for?" Charlie seemed to scowl at her incredulously.

"It's a tip." Nora replied.

The sound of creaking chairs and quieting voices told her this wasn't a common occurrence. Vadim at the Dugout Inn accepted these readily, but from the looks of the locals and Charlie's stare, she doubted a cap was ever handed over out of the goodness of one's heart. Still, eventually Charlie took the caps with his claw and doffed his cap to her.

"Have a good day, miss." He said, with a much lighter tone than his earlier words. Nora smiled, buttoned her jacket and stood from the table. She'd known it all along- show someone a bit of kindness, and you could change an outlook. It was something she tried to believe in, anyway.

She made her way to the stairs while ignoring the whispers of the locals, holding her head high. She passed by one table and was stopped by a hand grabbing her jacket. She whirled round and saw a ghoul- a woman- with black hair peering at her.

["If you're looking for work," the ghoul said, "Meet me in the alley behind Kleo's. Name's Bobbi."

Nora paused, considering. She wasn't low on caps, but it might mean getting a little more support on her side. Provided everything was above board.

"I'll think about it." she said, and Bobbi let her go.

She climbed the steps and reached for the door to the exit, only to find it opening on its own. She stepped to the side out of reflex, but was surprised when a familiar duo marched through.

Oh, lovely.

"Lookee here." Hancock said in that raspy, ghoulish way of his. He stood blocking the doorway now, with Fahrenheit behind him. "Twice in one day. We just keep bumping into each other, don't we?"

Nora swallowed the protest that built in her throat, that meeting earlier didn't count. Instead she pasted a smile on her face. No use in showing that he distressed her when she herself couldn't pinpoint why.

"Lucky us, right?" she agreed cheerfully.

Hancock's jagged mouth quirked upwards, and again Nora noted that his skin was more pliant than she'd assumed. The valleys and colour of his skin still unnerved her, but she could see that his ability to express emotion remained intact. Her gaze wandered back to his mouth.

 _I wonder how ghouls kiss?_

The thought was brief, and innocent enough, but the shock was instantaneous. She jerked her eyes away from Hancock and felt herself go from red to pale in a single second. She'd never thought of ghouls in that light before, even knowing they were simply irradiated people. She had nothing against ghouls; she had always simply failed to find one attractive. And that wasn't exclusive to ghouls either, it was just that most didn't hold a candle to her dead husband.

But even feeling curious filled her with guilt and made her defensive. There was no way she was interested in Hancock; she had just a slip of the brain. A fanciful thought not at all related to the man in front of her.

He must have noticed something was off, because he frowned and said,

"Y'alright there? You look like you're about to keel over."

Nora forced herself to focus and managed a more neutral expression.

"Oh, don't mind me. I just need some fresh air." She faked a cough as if to prove her point.

Hancock didn't appear to believe her totally, but stepped to the side and motioned for Fahrenheit to follow suit.

"Don't go getting sick and canceling on me." Hancock warned as she walked past, and she turned to look at him. "We've got dinner at eight tomorrow, an' don't you forget."

"I won't." Nora quickly replied and hastily made a retreat, escaping into the darkness of the street and letting the doors slam behind her.

She exhaled once she was far enough away and cursed herself. What was she, an amateur? To let her inner thoughts run away with her like that, especially-

It was then that she recalled what Hancock had said.

 _Wait, dinner?_

* * *

Hancock watched her disappear through the doors of his bar, and his eyes lingered for a moment after they slammed shut.

It took him a moment to realize he was being talked to.

"C'mon, boss, the drinks are waiting." Fahrenheit admonished him and began her way down the stairs. Hancock hummed in acknowledgement and followed along, nodding to the guard and receiving a tip of his hat in return.

They entered the bar, and out of the corner of his eye he noted Bobbi No-Nose. He didn't pay her much mind, but he could tell she was glaring.

His usual corner was free as always, which suited Hancock just fine. Whitechapel Charlie waved an arm at him like he usually did and floated on over, two mugs in hand.

"'Ello, boss!" Charlie announced, setting the mugs down on the table. "Good to see ya."

"A pleasure as always." He replied in kind and settled himself into the loveseat with practiced ease. He loved his bar. It was more a home to him even than the State House. Each of the bleached bloodstains told a story, like a tapestry of Goodneighbor's history. And the people raised their drinks in his direction as he passed, with only the occasional angry hiss. It was more than most folks these days had under their belt.

He saw Bobbi No-Nose stand up from her seat and make a hasty retreat. The woman didn't like him, mostly because he'd stopped more than a few of her shadier deals. He usually left people alone, but Bobbi ran with groups who would happily eat Goodneighbor alive if given the chance. Better to nip that sort of thing in the bud.

With her gone the atmosphere lightened, and he was able to drink in peace. Fahrenheit sat in an adjacent chair, moonshine in her glass and a watchful eye on the room. He couldn't ask for a better bodyguard.

That said, the mischievous look in her eye was one he could do without.

"Dinner, huh?" Fahrenheit gave him a toothy grin. "You taking my advice to heart?"

"Aw, hell, it ain't like that." Hancock said. "We're talkin' business, remember?"

"And you've never mixed business with pleasure." Fahrenheit's grin didn't falter. She took a drink from her glass and watched him all the while. It made him vaguely uncomfortable.

"Lemme be honest with you." Hancock leaned forward and set his drink down on the table. His voice was quiet, so that the other patrons wouldn't hear. "She's goodlooking, but from what I hear, she's fresh out of a Vault and has a _kid_. And besides that, she probably can't appreciate a mug this good." He gestured to his face.

Fahrenheit ceased smiling and cocked her head. "Sure, you're ugly as sin, but that hasn't stopped you before. What's different?"

Hancock scowled. What, he had to spell it out? He took Nora for the type to hate conflict and avoid violence at all costs. He, on the other hand, would happily put a bullet in an asshole's head if they deserved it. She doted after a dog and helped children on the street; he spent his nights in a bar and made deals with local mercs. Not to mention the fact she wore a damn wedding ring and Daisy told him she had a kid.

She was naïve, but classy, and in neither respect did he have experience. And despite what Fahrenheit said, he knew only a few could get over the rotting meat look that he sported now. It had barely ever bothered him before, but now... well, even he could admit there was a twinge of regret.

Women like Nora didn't go for men like him. Best to put that idea out of his head altogether.

"She ain't my type." was how he finally answered, and it was the truth, in one way or another.


	4. Chapter 4

Curiosity gets the better of her, in the end.

She stands at the entrance of Bobbi's little warehouse, squinting against the slivers of daylight that break across the alley's walls. Dogmeat sits at her side, patient as always and sniffing the air.

Nora wondered if morning was a good time to come calling. From what she knew of Goodneighbor, hangovers were practically expected. However, she did have an appointment that evening and work was rare. Better to seal the deal early on, if there was a deal to be had.

Of course, work usually meant killing raiders and mutants. She knew it was necessary to keep people safe, and had found a knack for it this past year, but nonetheless she regretted her current path in life. If she weren't so keen on helping the Minutemen, she might have taken up like Nick Valentine in Diamond City as a lawyer or secretary of some kind. Something closer to her old life.

Sighing, she knocked on the metal door and waited. No use complaining about it now, she supposed.

A minute ticked by before the slat on the door opened, and Bobbi appeared, peering at her. Another moment and the door was open, and Bobbi ushered her inside.

"Get in, before somebody sees you!" Bobbi hissed, and Nora obliged, albeit suspiciously. Dogmeat followed close behind and Bobbi closed the door behind him.

"Is there a reason you don't want us seen?" Nora frowned at the woman. "Is this legal?"

Bobbi stared at her before barking out a laugh.

"What the hell does legal even mean these days? I just don't want every sod out there muscling in on this job." Bobbi turned and headed for a fight of stairs, but Nora didn't feel reassured. Dogmeat whimpered and nuzzled at her hand, and she patted his head in return.

"Stay here, buddy, but come running if I shout." Nora whispered, and Dogmeat seemed to get the jist of it because he settled himself on the cement floor.

The two of them made their way down to the basement, Bobbi in front and Nora trailing behind. The floor was wet and dusted with debris, like cobblestone had been dragged up or down. She noted that Bobbi walked with something of a limp, slow and measured in her steps. Not really a shamble, but it was enough that Bobbi had to keep her hand to the wall.

Bobbi's harsh voice cut through her thoughts. "It's a simple job, really. You're gonna be doin' some... digging."

"Digging?" Nora asked, raising an eyebrow. That seemed... odd. What was there in Goodneighbor that would warrant something like that?

"That's right." Bobbi replied, voice as rough as sandpaper. "The others are down there already. Do good work, and you'll be paid well, I assure you."

Bobbi clearly didn't intend to enlighten her any more, but Nora still cast her a questioning glance as she opened the only door in the room. Inside was a huge hole in the wall, leading into what she assumed was a sewer. She could hear voices deeper within.

This job was getting stranger and stranger by the minute. At this point she wasn't interested in the money- she just had to know what was going on.

"Think Bobbi will actually pay us this week?" One of the men, wearing a construction hat, asked the other as she approached. That didn't bode well.

"Hopefully." The other replied. Neither acknowledged her presence; they were focused on setting explosives on a crumbling wall. "Let's see what's inside, shall we?"

"Hey, you two." she waved at the men, and they looked up from the wall. "Don't suppose you know what we're digging for?"

They looked at each other, before the first man snorted. "Bobbi don't take kindly to questions."

That settled that, then.

Nora was about to march right back up through the tunnel, but the second worker lit the explosive's fuse and her curiosity was piqued. She stepped back a little, behind where the two men retreated to.

The blast wasn't the largest she'd seen, but it did it's job. The wall fell apart and more of the sewer was revealed. A quick peek over the men's shoulders didn't reveal much, but what she heard, did.

Clicking.

"Mirelurks!" The first man shouted and pushed her aside, scrambling up the tunnel. Nora was nearly bowled over.

"Bobbi can take this job and shove it!" The other followed close behind.

Nora grimaced and yanked her pistol from the holster at her side. Mirelurks were a damn menace, and difficult to get rid of. If it wasn't the practically impenetrable shells, it was the speed with which they reproduced. Just another thing about this sad world that needed to be avoided.

However, avoidance didn't seem like an option at this point.

Three mirelurks burst through the opened wall, and she took aim for the closest's one maw. Two pulls of her trigger and the thing fell into a blue-blooded heap, but it didn't cause the other two to waver in the slightest. One slashed at her arm, and the other tried to push her over.

"Shit!" she swore and threw herself to the side, firing a few shots that barely grazed the second's shell. Her arm ached. She was lucky for her armor, otherwise she might have lost the limb.

This time she waited for one of them to screech at her before burying a bullet in it's skull.

The remaining one seemed to understand it had lost the upper hand because it scuttled back towards the toppled wall. Inside she could see eggs- dozens of them- filling the chamber. Instantly she decided on the course of action, and grabbed a frag grenade from her satchel. She bit off the top and tossed it into the room, where it bounced off the mirelurk's shell and landed in the pool of water.

Nora ran back towards the entrance, just before the tunnel shook with the force of the explosion.

Nora slammed the door behind her, panting. Bobbi stood in the room with wide eyes. She must have looked a mess, doused in blue blood and dust from debris. But Nora couldn't work up enough energy to care; her arm hurt like hell, and she'd had enough bullshit for one day.

"The hell," Nora snarled, and pointed towards the door behind her, "Is going on!?"

Bobbi scowled, pulled out a cigarette box and lit one up, all under Nora's furious gaze. She took a puff and sat down in the folding chair behind her.

"Well, if you've guessed, I've been diggin' a tunnel." Bobbi began. "More specifically, a tunnel to Hancock's storeroom."

Nora's breathing slowed and almost stopped altogether. Hancock's _storeroom?_ As in, where the man likely kept every valuable thing he owned? She couldn't help but pale at the idea. If Hancock would kill a man for threatening him, she didn't want to imagine what would happen to somebody who tried to _steal_ from him.

"Why?" she eventually demanded.

Bobbi sighed, deflating. She suddenly looked haggard and almost... broken. She looked down towards the floor, frowning. "Look, I know I ain't been completely honest, but hear me out. That man is determined to ruin my life; he's taken everything from me."

Nora's brows furrowed. Was Hancock really the type to punish an innocent? Granted, she didn't know him that well and could only make assumptions. But why not kill Bobbi and be done with it? That seemed more in line with the morals of this day and age.

"His storeroom is full of things he's taken from folks." Bobbi continued, not looking up. "Stimpacks, medical supplies, weapons, you name it. Doles em' out to his favourites." Bobbi rubbed her neck, and Nora felt a twinge of sympathy. "You gotta help me make things right."

Nora struggled. On one hand, she had trouble imagining Hancock doing any of these things. On the other, she had only known him a little while, and Bobbi's anger seemed genuine. What if killing Finn hadn't been to discourage extortion, but just taking out competition?

The two of them stayed like for a moment, Nora dripping with blue blood and aching, and Bobbi hunched over and boring holes into the cement.

"How are you even planning to manage it? Your employees aren't being paid." Nora asked, quietly.

Bobbi slammed her hand on the side table, causing Nora to jump.

"I was gonna pay them!" Bobbi snarled. "You think I'd risk them snitchin' on me cuz' I wouldn't pay them?" Her eyes were full of anger. "All the caps Hancock has cost me, there's more than enough!"

Bobbi's anger dissipated a moment after it began, and she curled in on herself. "Please, you... you gotta help me."

Nora's shoulders released their tension. Seeing the woman like that, she couldn't help the wave of pity that washed over her. What was she supposed to say? Yes?

For a moment, she considered it. If Hancock really was as bad as Bobbi said, then it would serve him right to have his stolen goods back among the people of Goodneighbor. But then, she'd be a thief herself, wouldn't she?

Torn, Nora thought back to the mirelurks and explosives. Whatever was going on here, it was crazy; the town might collapse before Bobbi ever reached the storeroom at all. And no matter what , she couldn't condone burying Goodneighbor under a pile of rubble.

"Look, I'm meeting Hancock today." she said. Bobbi didn't respond- if anything, she tensed. "I'll talk to him about getting your stuff back. This tunnel, it's way too dangerous. It'll get you killed. Besides, we'll be negotiating for all sorts of things, so I'm sure that-"

Before she could finish the sentence, Bobbi had pulled a pistol from her boot and leveled the barrel directly at Nora's face.

Nora's voice trailed off as her eyes widened.

"You ain't gonna tell Hancock shit." Bobbi snarled. "Why couldn't you just be fuckin' stupid?!"

* * *

For those who have asked, I hope to update a few times a week! :)


	5. Chapter 5

Nora stared blankly into the barrel of Bobbi's pistol. Astonished.

She'd fallen for it all; the broken tone in Bobbi's voice, the convincing lies. Even the limp, which Nora had taken for an injury, had turned out to be the weight of the weapon shoved into her boot.

When had she become so gullible? Nora had been able to recognize a liar quite well in her old life, but perhaps all her new experience with the uneducated had dulled her expectations. Raiders and mercs were her purview now, with grade school knowledge and brash attitudes.

But Bobbi, Bobbi was clever. Clever enough to manage to get this far without getting caught, conniving enough to catch Nora with an unholstered weapon.

Now they faced each other, inches separating Nora from the bullet that might blow her skull wide open. She raised her hands in a placating gesture.

"If you shoot me, Bobbi, everyone will know that it was you." Nora spoke, stifling the quiver in her throat. If Bobbi was as smart as she thought, she might see reason. "Everyone at the bar saw us talking."

She could see the gears turning in the ghoul's head.

"On top of which," Nora continued, her hands lowering just a little, "Hancock's expecting me. Do you think he won't notice if I don't show up?"

Bobbi snarled and stepped forward warningly at the sound of Hancock's name. Nora pressed forward.

"Killing a potential business partner will piss him off, I'm sure. Even if he isn't just mad about the bad manners of murdering someone in his town."

"Shuddup! Just shut your goddamn mouth! Lemme think!" Bobbi ran her free hand through her hair in frustration. She was agitated, and for good reason; it was a bad situation. There was no way that killing her would go unnoticed. Whether or not Hancock would care, Nora couldn't really say, but she liked to think he would. If only so someone might get even with her killer.

A minute passed before Bobbi finally said something, setting her mouth into a firm line.

"I let you go," the woman grated out, with a voice like sandpaper on glass, "And if anybody asks, you were helping me clear out some mirelurks. Not a word about the tunnel, or the storeroom, or I _promise_ you, you will regret it."

Nora nodded briskly in response. "Deal."

It was a lie, of course, but Bobbi didn't need to know that.

Bobbi stared at her, long and hard, before pointing towards the stairs. Nora silently complied, climbing the cobblestone steps with Bobbi's gun pressing uncomfortably into her back.

Dogmeat stood up when he saw what was going on and began to growl, but didn't move beyond that. She was thankful he recognized guns as a threat.

Bobbi pushed her towards the door and opened it, giving Dogmeat a kick to move him outside. That almost ticked Nora off more than being lied to and tricked into a crazy scheme. Both she and Dogmeat were unceremoniously kicked out and the door slammed shut behind them.

No last minute warning or threat, just the dimming light of the sun on her face again. It was almost anticlimactic. Still, she had to blink a few times before her lungs could finally empty. She was working on pure adrenaline; she had no doubts that Bobbi would have killed her if she thought she could get away with it.

Now, however, there was only one thing to do.

Nora booked it towards the State House, Dogmeat fast behind her. She arrived at the building only to be told by the guard outside that Hancock had gone to the Third Rail. Cursing, she ran around the building and tore down the stairs, ignoring the guard's protests, and scanned the full bar.

Hancock was lounging in a corner on a red loveseat, alone but for a pair of guards sitting nearby. She hurried over to him, which set the guards off until Hancock waved them back to their seats. He himself sat upright and seemed to take in the state of her affairs: heavy breathing, injured arm and splattered with blue blood.

"Bit early for dinner, sister." Hancock said lightly. "An' you ain't even cleaned up yet. Been trekking through the Common?"

"Actually, I was at Bobbi's." Nora didn't appreciate the humor. "She's been digging a tunnel to your storeroom and just threatened to kill me if I told you."

That wiped the smirk off his face pretty quick.

"She's been doing _what?_ "

Collapsing into the seat opposite him, Nora winced at the jolt to her arm. She hadn't paid much attention to it yet, but it hurt like hell and she had left her medical supplies in her hiding spot just outside of town. Unclasping her armor and lifting her sleeve revealed the extent of it; a huge bruise from wrist to elbow, black and ugly.

"Just what I said. She had a couple other men down there too, using explosives. There were mirelurks." Nora lifted her swollen arm as proof.

Hancock narrowed his eyes and gestured to Charlie across the room. The robot disappeared for a moment before returning with a glass of ice. He floated over with it and a rag in hand, which Nora took gratefully.

Once she had the rag filled with ice and pressed to her arm, Hancock whistled to the two guards.

"You two grab some buddies and clear out Bobbi's place." He ordered them. "Bring her back here when you're done."

The guards nodded and filed out of the room with haste. Hancock exhaled loudly when they left. "Well, fuck me. You all right, sister?"

Nora let out a breathy laugh and squeezed the rag against her arm. "That's the third time you've asked me that, you know."

"Only cuz' you keep showing up in some sort of trouble." He replied. He reached for her wrist. "Here, I've got some Med-X. Take the edge off."

Nora pulled her arm in a little closer and shook her head.

"No thanks. I don't use drugs if I can help it. It'll heal on its own."

Hancock blinked his black eyes at her.

"What, like, _at all?_ "

His look was incredulous, like she'd just told him that she was a Deathclaw.

"It isn't _that_ strange." she shifted uncomfortably, feeling defensive. It was a personal choice, and a common one where she had come from. Surely not everybody in Goodneighbor used the stuff?

"You're missing out." Hancock insisted, and as if to demonstrate he pulled a tin of Mentats from his coat. Nora wrinkled her nose but didn't respond when he popped one in his mouth.

"Anyway," he began with a satisfied sigh, "I gotta say, I'm inclined to reward you for tellin' me about Bobbi."

Nora opened her mouth to protest that it wasn't necessary- she was only thinking of the town- when she paused. If he really meant it, maybe she could use it to her advantage. She still needed that contract signed, after all.

"I didn't do it for a reward," she said, "But I wouldn't argue if we could take another look at my proposal."

Hancock chuckled and put the Mentats container down between them.

"Like a dog with a bone, huh? Fine, we can talk about it. After we deal with Bobbi."

As if on cue, the two guards came back down the stairs and across the room to where they sat. Bobbi wasn't with them.

"Where the hell is she?" Hancock demanded.

"She ain't in town, boss." The first of the guards spoke up. "We checked the warehouse, an' there's a tunnel all right, but no Bobbi. Daisy saw her book it out the gate."

"Fucking shit." Hancock pinched the bridge of what was left of his nose and growled in frustration. Nora remained quiet.

After a long pause Hancock finally looked up, a determined expression on his face.

"Tell everybody in town we got a traitor. Anybody sees Bobbi, I wanna know about it."

"Gotcha boss." The two said in unison and turned back around, towards the stairs. No doubt to carry out Hancock's orders.

Hancock watched them leave, and Nora took the opportunity to study his face. He was definitely different than other ghouls she'd met. His skin didn't have the worn leathery look of the Pre-War ghouls wandering around; she supposed that meant he was younger. That was rare, she'd learned, what with the emphasis on Rad-Away production these days.

Maybe she would ask Daisy about it later.

"Well, Bobbi's on the loose." Hancock leaned back in his seat, jolting Nora from her thoughts. "Now, what are we gonna do about it?"

"We?" She blurted out. Hancock just smiled in response.

"Yes, we. Far as I'm concerned, you're involved now. And isn't that what the Minutemen do, protect the people?"

"I don't think this counts." came the reply.

"If Bobbi knows about my storeroom, she knows where the tunnels into the town are." Hancock explained. He seemed remarkably at ease, for almost getting screwed over. "And you can bet she'll sell that information to the highest bidder."

Nora paled. Most settlements survived with a one way in, one way out policy. But just from what she'd seen of Bobbi's house, there were large sewers that probably ran in many different directions. If Bobbi knew where those tunnels opened out to, and were convinced to tell a group of raiders... Nora doubted that even the Minutemen would be able to hold Goodneighbor for long.

No one would be safe.

"... fine." She conceded in defeat. Her shoulders drooped. If she were anyone else, she'd tell him to fuck off and deal with the problem himself. But people were involved, and she didn't need more nightmares haunting her dreams.

"Where do we start?"

* * *

"This is a dumb fucking idea."

Hancock rolled his eyes and took a drag on his cigarette. The two of them, he and Fahrenheit, stood at Goodneighbor's gate under the rapidly rising sun.

"Ya worry too much." Smoke escaped through what was left of his nose. He squinted; the sunrise was glinting off Fahrenheit's armor and getting in his eyes. Not exactly the best thing for a hangover. "It's fuckin' _Bobbi_. If we're lucky she'll come crawlin' back, and if we ain't, it's nothing a bullet can't fix."

"Sure, but why can't me and the boys do it?" Fahrenheit insisted, folding her arms and glaring him down. "No reason to do it yourself."

"Hell yes there is." he waved her off, the light of his cigarette trailing through the air. "Nobody in power should stay comfortable for long. People start thinkin' I'm goin' soft, and it won't be long before we get another Vic running into town. Besides, it'll be good to get some exercise."

His bodyguard didn't look convinced, but before she could argue, Nora had appeared from around the street corner and was walking towards them. She'd probably spent the night at the Hotel Rexford because her clothes were somewhat cleaned up and the mirelurk blood was out of her hair. Her dog was there too, padding along and decked out in some of the armor he'd seen on Supermutant mutts.

His gaze flicked to her arm; tightly wrapped but functioning.

The fact that she refused to use chems still sent him for a loop. Who didn't use chems? Sure, he frowned on kids using the stuff- bad for growing bones an' all- but he'd never met a grown human who outright said _no._ It reminded him of those old children's books with unicorns in 'em.

He tipped his hat to her. "G'mornin'. Ready to hit the road?"

Nora adjusted the bag on her back with her good arm. "Ready as I'll ever be, I guess." A shrug, and then a little smile to Fahrenheit. "I'll, uh, try not to get him killed."

The raspy groan that escaped his lips couldn't be helped.

"I ain't made of _glass_ , ladies." Hancock threw up his arms in exasperation. Nora gave him a sheepish, apologetic look.

"Sorry, I just kinda feel like I'm stealing you." Nora tugged on her sleeve. "You run the place, after all. I can do this on my own."

He was struck by two things; one, that the idea of her going alone really bothered him. Watching her leave town to chase down a problem _he'd_ let fester for so long? He would hate that.

And two... well, being stolen by her didn't sound all that bad.

"Y'ain't got a choice, sister." Hancock smirked and spread one half of his coat, revealing the vellum contract tucked into one of the various handmade sleeves. "If you want this signed, better get movin'."

Nora scowled at him, brows furrowing and lips fighting between a frown and a pout.

It was fuckin' _adorable._

He must have had a stupid grin on his face because when he looked away from Nora, Fahrenheit had an eyebrow cocked and a suspicious gleam in her eye. He fired back a warning glance.

"Let's get this over with, then." Nora sighed and reached between them for the door. Hancock stepped back and let her pass by, gaze lingering.

He may not have a chance in hell, but there was no harm in lookin'.


	6. Chapter 6

The little party makes its way through the Common in relative silence. Mostly because the place is a death trap in broad daylight, but also because Nora just isn't sure what to say. The two are so different she doubts they have anything in common, and all the questions she might have asked him seem … impolite. Like, what is it like to be a ghoul? She wonders about it constantly but keeps it to herself- it isn't great conversation for someone she barely knows.

Hancock hasn't been much help; he's been nearly silent the whole time he's been trailing behind her. Occasionally she hears the sound of his zip lighter flicking open and a raspy exhale, but words? There weren't much of those. He may as well have been Dogmeat, if the dog weren't leading them along with his powerful nose.

It's really made her uncomfortable, and she wished for some sort of change of pace as they trudged through the streets of rubble, right up until Hancock finally spoke.

"So, where's your husband?"

Nora nearly stumbled.

The question wasn't new, and not really shocking at that point, but it didn't hurt any less. Nate being dead still didn't feel like something that could have happened, any more than the world ending or mutants walking around. There is a hole in her life, gaping and wide, and she still doesn't know how to go on. But she does, regardless, because that's what he would have wanted. Even if she failed him in so many ways.

Hancock doesn't press, but she knows that he's waiting for an answer. She wished she could just ignore it, and maybe he would let it go, but it would doubtless seem rude. She didn't need any animosity with her new companion.

"He's... he passed away." she said after a long pause, trying to focus on climbing over a pile of cinderblocks. The words ache in her mouth and tear at her heartstrings. It never sounds real when she says it.

"Shit." A heartbeat, before he continues. "I'm sorry."

"It was a year ago." She hoped for it to sound reassuring, even if it didn't work for her. No need for him to feel guilty about bringing it up. If he felt guilt.

She looked back at him. He had a thoughtful frown on his face, and looked up when he noticed her checking on him.

"Don't mean to be nosy," he said, studying her face. "But I heard you also had a kid."

The both of them were suddenly standing still. Nora wasn't sure who stopped first; all she was aware of was the pounding of her heart and the feeling of her blood going cold. This question was almost harder than the last.

What could she say? She knew Hancock's opinion on the Institute from the speech he'd once given when she first arrived in Goodneighbor. That the Institute was the enemy, that their synths would tear good people from their homes and replace them. All of which was true. At the time she'd felt sick to her stomach, just like every time she heard another horror story whispered in a bar or proclaimed across a newspaper. To know that her own son orchestrated such terrible events... it was a unique and special kind of hell.

Part of why she was so devoted to the Minutemen was in hopes that she could make up for what she had, in part, created.

But Hancock was waiting again and she needed to say _something._ After a moment of thought, she took the easy option.

"I did. He's in a better place now." She said, quietly. It wasn't _really_ a lie, and it had the intended effect, if Hancock's expression was anything to go by. Nonetheless she felt terrible on several fronts. She hated dishonesty, and she hated pity. Both made her feel like crawling under a rock.

"Damn." Hancock said. He shifted his weight awkwardly and looked everywhere but at her face. "Didn't mean to bring up-"

A loud, insistent bark forced them both to look up from each other, towards the end of the debris-ridden street. She couldn't have asked for better timing, whatever Dogmeat had found. Nora jogged to where the dog pointed to Hancock in close pursuit.

"What did you find, boy?" Nora asked. They were now standing in front of a dilapidated building with a large, blood-splattered door. The windows were boarded up from the inside and there was a distinct smell of burnt flesh. Dogmeat whined and lifted his paw, scratching at the wood surface.

"She's probly inside." Hancock frowned at the door. If the earlier conversation bothered him, it didn't show. She could be grateful for that at least.

Nora tested the doorknob. "Locked."

"Stand back." Hancock waved her away and pulled out his shotgun. Nora motioned for Dogmeat to sit and stay; he was great in the outdoors but she worried for him in closed spaces. Far from a simple pet, Dogmeat had wormed his way into her heart and she utterly refused to think of losing him.

Satisfied that he wouldn't move from his spot, Nora stepped to the side and watched as Hancock took aim at the door and blasted it open with two short pulls of the trigger.

The door creaked on its hinges for a brief moment before falling to the floor, kicking up dust. It was dark inside, but for a lone light deeper within that appeared to hang over a kitchen table. Sitting at the table was a group of people in leather and wire armor, no longer hunched over but bolted upright and looking towards the broken door. Raiders.

"The fuck?!" One of them screeched, leaping up from her chair. Apparently they'd been playing cards.

Nora almost felt like echoing her. There was nothing in this world she despised more than rickety old buildings filled with people trying to kill her. As it was, instinct kicked in and she quickly whipped out her pistol. Hancock didn't look surprised; if anything, he seemed to have expected this.

"We're not here for you." Nora stated loudly, for all the room's occupants to hear. No one had fired a weapon yet, and the silence was eery. If she could, she'd like to keep it that way. "We're looking for-"

Nora was abruptly interrupted by the sound of Hancock, who dispensed with all pretenses and filled the first raider's head with buckshot. Her face exploded, spattering the kitchen walls with blood and other things Nora didn't care to consider. Her body toppled; the other raiders stood baffled for a long moment.

Then, all at once there was pandemonium. The other raiders jumped up from their card table and pulled out their weapons; mostly pistols but one had an assault rifle. Nora ducked into the doorway and turned a side table on its side for cover. Hancock, meanwhile, had a grim smile set on his face and poured shot after shot into the kitchen, taking out a few raiders and littering the walls with shrapnel.

Nora took advantage of the cover-fire and aimed at the raider with the assault rifle. Experience had taught her to pick out the biggest gun first. She fired and hit him in the throat- it went through cleanly and the raider staggered. He tried to cover the wound with his hand, but the arteries were torn open and he soon keeled over.

The raider next to him had only a moment to contemplate his friend's demise before Hancock rushed in, slamming his fist into the raider's stomach. The man wheezed and doubled over, only for his chest to meet with the barrel of Hancock's shotgun and be promptly shot once through the heart. Nora watched and marvelled as Hancock tossed the body aside carelessly. For someone who spent so much time doing drugs and drinking, he was remarkably disciplined in combat. She could understand why he was feared.

The last man standing roared in suicidal fury and charged at her- both she and Hancock took aim and fired. The combined force sent the man flying against the kitchen counter, his head falling back and knocking the tap loose.

Water trickled into his lifeless eyes.

Nora stood up from her hiding spot and panted, surveying the damage. The room was drenched in blood and bodies littered the floor. She had the presence of mind to look Hancock over for damage, before she promptly remembered what had just happened and smacked his shoulder as hard as she could.

"Hey!" He protested, looking down at her in surprise.

"What the hell was that for?!" She bordered dangerously on shrill. "We could have talked them down!"

His disbelieving expression didn't abate. "Talk to raiders? They would have filled you full of lead before you said 'please."

"You don't know that!" Nora argued.

"I sure as hell do." Hancock reloaded his shotgun and stepped over the nearest corpse, towards the stairs leading to the upper floor. "Just avoidin' carrying you home in a body bag."

Nora seethed at him but followed, focusing her anger on a spot between his shoulders. Maybe he was right, but she'd be damned if she gave him the satisfaction of saying so.

The floors creaked warningly as they ascended to the second floor. Another raider was waiting at the top with a bat, and Hancock lifted his shotgun to take him out, but Nora was faster; she had pulled the trigger before Hancock could aim. The bat fell from the raider's hands as he stumbled back, chest blooming with red. Finally he crumpled to the floor.

Hancock stood over the fresh body and whistled approvingly. "Damn, you've got good reflexes."

"Thanks." Nora replied nonchalantly, trying to focus on surveying the room. She was still pissed about before, and the long raider was suspicious. Usually the leader hung out in the safest spot, which meant they still weren't close to wherever Bobbi might be.

"Figured you for just lucky, but I guess you can handle yourself after all." Hancock continued, kicking the corpse with his boot.

Nora bristled. Lucky? As in, weak but fortunate enough to still be alive? She was not _lucky_ \- luck had nothing to do with a year of hellish adjustment to a ravaged world. It had nothing to do with scraping and scrounging and struggling for survival. The nerve of him, to suggest such a thing!

Her anger made her search for a witty remark. "Oh yeah? And who did you think was going to be handling me?"

It took a full three seconds and Hancock's look for her to realize how that came out.

Damn it.

"I mean," she backtracked, panicking, "For me. Handling for me. The handling. Ugh."

"I know what you meant." Hancock replied airily. He didn't seem bothered, just amused, which was just about the opposite of how Nora felt. He didn't make a stupid comment either; just turned back around and headed for the next flight of steps. Another thing to be grateful for, despite the flush rising in her cheeks.

Nora ran a hand down her face and sighed quietly enough for him not to hear.

She was trying, really trying, not to ditch Hancock altogether and hunt down Bobbi on her own. This was the sort of thing she was good at, even if she hated the mechanics of it. Saving good people, that was her way of surviving. And she did it on her own. But Hancock? Hancock complicated things; he was definitely used to giving orders, and had a shoot-first mentality that did not mesh with her hopes of diplomacy. Not to mention the general uncomfortable-ness that she felt in having to travel with someone who wasn't a dog.

The next floor was much quieter than the other two had been, and there was still no sign of Bobbi. The floors were beginning to fall apart as well, with gaping holes leading light to the rooms below. She didn't see anyone around but there was a RobCo computer still blinking across the room.

Hancock crossed the space and hit the enter key; a long line of entries could be seen appearing on the screen. Hancock adjusted his hat and leaned closer, reading the titles.

"Anything on Bobbi?" Nora asked hopefully. Sometimes you could get lucky with raiders; they weren't particularly smart. She'd once found a terminal in a raider's den with a map to hidden caches all across the Commonwealth.

"Just one. She was here all right, but the raiders pointed her over to..." Hancock trailed off. A scowl creased his already deeply wrinkled features. "Fuckin' Sinjin."

"Sinjin?" Nora approached him, holstering her weapon. "Who's he?"

"Someone who needs to take a dirt nap." Hancock growled, obviously frustrated. "He's a real piece of work; gone an' made groups of raiders pretty scary. It was only a matter of time til he made a move on Goodneighbor, but if Bobbi sells her info to him..."

Nora caught on quickly. "Can we stop him before that happens?"

Hancock looked up. "What, you and me?" His coal-black eyes blinked at her and she resented the implication that she would bail out before finishing their mission. Still, she shrugged.

"I've dealt with dangerous men before. If he's a threat to innocent people, he needs to be stopped one way or another."

Nora didn't _like_ violence, not for a minute, but it was necessary these days. There were just some people that, no matter how much she wished otherwise, wouldn't be talked down or convinced to give up. By some, she meant most, but it didn't stop her from trying.

Hancock's face told her that this Sinjin wasn't one of the ones who liked talking.

"Not like we have a choice." Hancock replied grimly, after a considering pause. "If we find his hideout, we can take them by surprise."

"If we find it? You don't know where he is?" That surprised her. Somehow she'd begun to think that Hancock knew everything that went on in the Commonwealth, but that was probably only because he kept knowing things about _her._

"We'll find them, don't freak out." Hancock stood straight and lit up another cigarette, betraying either complete nonchalance or anxiety. She wasn't sure which.

"I'm not freaking, I'm... concerned." She made her way to the stairs again, not waiting for Hancock to follow. "Let's get out of here and find a camp. I can't handle the smell anymore."


	7. Chapter 7

Finding a campsite on the edge of the Common was no easy task. Pockets of Supermutants tended to wander the streets on patrol, and their mutts could pick up a smell almost as good as Nora's dog. But after an hour of searching they finally found an old bookstore with busted-out windows and a few dead bodies. The corpses were old, and Hancock figured it was a good a sign as any that their buddies wouldn't be coming back.

The store itself had no cover, but there was a back room with a dirty mattress and a chair in one corner that would suit them just fine. It was cramped and dark, but Nora's Pip-boy made for a decent lamp when they wandered in. Hancock immediately claimed the chair while Nora tore up some ruined books and spread them out on the mattress like a makeshift sheet, covering the stains old and new. The result was something like a nest that she and Dogmeat curled up in.

"Are you sure you want to take first watch?" she asked, even as she made herself quite comfortable. Her dog put his head on her lap and stared at him, as if daring him to make her move.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Hancock quirked his mouth. "I don't sleep much."

"Is that common for ghouls?" she asked him. He blinked at her, and the look on her face said she almost immediately regretted asking. He was just surprised; it was the first time she had brought it up. His being a ghoul, that is. He was used to the friendly ribbing of the people of Goodneighbor about it, and otherwise the jeers and slurs of Diamond City folk.

But Nora hadn't mentioned it once, and he had learned from Daisy that she was not only a Vault-dweller, but in cryo-sleep since the War. Ghouls must've been a shock to her.

"Naw, I'm just a party animal." He winked and flicked his cigarette, the ashes aimed somewhere towards the corner of the room. Away from the paper, at least. "Besides, I want to relax a little."

Nora's expression was questioning. She didn't know what he meant until he pulled out a syringe of Med-X and a tin of Mentats.

" _Oh_." She frowned, and Hancock couldn't help but chuckle. She thought this was bad? This was like sipping wine from a real glass compared to the highs he could get up to. He took one tablet and offered the pack out of habit, but she waved him off politely.

"Ya ain't had a dream til' you've gone to sleep with Mentats." he coaxed her, but she was stubborn and just settled back into the mattress. It gave him a pretty good glimpse of pale, soft skin when her work shirt wrinkled up.

The urge to touch it surprised him just a little, but he ran with it. He'd wanted women before and the thought process wasn't new. Hell, he was used to it, after his younger wild days and his lazier mayoral years. For a Ghoul he was young, but he was verging on a good sixty years now, which left a lot of time for casual flings and even a steady lover, once or twice.

On top of all this Nora was a good-looking woman. Not stunning, like Magnolia, or even what most would call "beautiful." If he thought about it, and he did, she could be best described as charming; her mouth was expressive and her eyes were warm. Her body wasn't bad either; paler than most after only a year of the harsh sun, and just a tad wider around the hips. Combined with the toned arms of a sharpshooter, she was the spitting image of a housewife-turned-merc, and damn if it didn't turn gears in his head.

The Mentats began to take effect and his thoughts revved up into high gear. He imagined for a brief moment that he could slide his rough fingers across the strip of skin her shirt revealed; it'd be soft and warm, and maybe quiver just a little at his touch. She would sigh softly, and he could picture the flush on her cheeks quite easily. Her hands might clench into the mattress, or even reach out and tug at his shoulders.

 _Easy,_ he'd say. She'd pout like she tended to do, and he would oblige her, slipping his fingers higher to tug at the buttons obscuring-

"Hancock?"

His eyes flicked upwards from her stomach to her face, where her brows were furrowed and her eyes scrutinized him. She'd caught him staring.

"Just waitin' for it to kick in." He shook the Mentats container, grateful for her lack of knowledge, because she gave him one suspicious look before turning over on her side and resting her arm on Dogmeat's back. A sharp pain hit his fingers and he swore, looking down. His cigarette had burnt itself down to his fingers without him noticing.

He discarded the end of the cigarette in an old can perched on the side table next to him. He supposed he should feel a little guilty about fantasizing about her while she trusted him to watch her back, but it didn't mean he respected her any less. She was a good shot and eager to help decent folks out. When he'd caught her teaching the drifter kid how to make a living, there had even been a swelling of admiration.

Reality had a tendency to set in around this point in the equation though, and he was reminded of it when he glanced down at his hands. His skin was rough, marred and pulled taught around every muscle and bone. He'd never truly regretted his decision to be a Ghoul, not once, but the jeers and spitting got old fast.

Nora didn't act disgusted by him, but like he'd explained to Fahrenheit, there were a ton of reasons why a fling with her wouldn't work out. Topping that list was the very likely chance that she wouldn't be able to get over just how damn ugly he was. He couldn't blame her for that. It was only natural.

He looked up; by this point she was long asleep, breathing softly into the dog's fur. If he were a wise man, he'd put all thoughts of her out of his head and focus on the task at hand. Curb the little flights of fancy and keep things strictly professional.

But then, as he watched her turn over in her sleep, he decided he had always been more a "street smarts" sort of ghoul.

* * *

Nora awoke the following morning more naturally than she was used to. Usually her sleep was interrupted by the blinding light of the sun or the noises of a bustling city in motion. Sometimes even by Dogmeat, who was often her first warning sign before hell broke loose. This time it was quiet and dark, and her back didn't ache from sleeping on a cold floor.

It took a moment, and checking the clock on her Pip-Boy, to realize that it was nearly nine in the morning. Alarmed, she fumbled with the device until a dull, green glow filled the room and she could see where Hancock was. Why hadn't he woken her for her shift on watch?

What she saw gave her an answer. The ghoul was settled back in the chair, hat dipped low and arms crossed. He must have fallen asleep in the night.

She probably should have been annoyed at him for not letting her do her part, but she wasn't willing to let go of her relaxed mood just yet. Neither was Dogmeat; he hadn't raised his head since she'd woken up.

The Pip-Boy lit up the contours of Hancock's face, and she couldn't help crooking her head for a slightly better view. His discoloured skin clung to the muscles of his face like plastic wrap, revealing every contour and bony ridge. It certainly wasn't pretty, but it no longer made her feel sick like her first encounters with ghouls had. It was hard to feel sorry for him either; Hancock seemed very self-assured. She guessed one would have to be, to pull off that getup.

Curiosity satisfied, Nora pried herself from the bed and quietly crossed the small space. She poked him in the shoulder gently- no response. Another prod and the same result.

"Hancock?" She resisted the urge to sigh out loud when that, too, met with barely a twitch. Shifting her weight from side to side, she weighed her options; on one hand, she could wait for him to wake up on his own. But, they'd lost enough daylight as it was. On the other, she could try being less delicate. He was probably coming off of whatever he had shot up last night, and if it was like a hangover then she might need to be louder. She looked over to Dogmeat; if he had an opinion on the matter, it didn't show.

Decision made, Nora put both hands on his shoulders and shook him once, firmly. "Hancock!"

Hancock's ink-black eyes burst open and he jerked in surprise. His sudden movement upset his balance; the chair tipped back, and Nora had a second's warning before it toppled. Hancock went down with it and she would not have followed if she weren't holding onto his shoulders. As it was she squeaked, Hancock oophed, and she was sprawled across him and the chair.

The both of them stared at each other, frozen in place. She was flat against his chest, hands on either side of him from trying to break the fall. He blinked up at her and she looked back. Her mouth moved- her first instinct was to apologize- but nothing came out.

It turned out he would be the one to speak first, and of course it was paired with a lazy, amused smile. "Hell of a way to wake up, eh, sunshine?"

Nora was then acutely aware of how their hips were pressed together and their faces were dangerously close to touching. Coupled with an unexpected shudder at the implications of his words, the situation had become too intimate for her comfort level, and she hastened to untangle herself from him. Hancock didn't move much, apparently content to watch her stumble to her feet and struggle for an apology.

"Sorry, I-I didn't... I was only trying to get you up!" She reached down and grabbed his arm, helping him to his feet.

"S'alright, no harm done." Hancock patted himself down and dusted off his coat as if to be sure. Nora, meanwhile, put a good foot of distance between them and tried to force the flush from her face. She wanted to crawl under a rock.

An awkward silence fell between them. Nora couldn't really explain the tongue-tiedness that seemed more common these last few days, or the distress she was currently grappling with, but it was getting pretty annoying. He must think she was a complete sack of doorknobs.

After a while Hancock appeared to get bored with it and begin grabbing up their things. "Well, this is fun, but I guess we should get goin'."

"Right." She agreed gratefully, and snatched up her satchel. This was exactly what was needed; to leave this place and never talk about it again, if she could help it. She whistled to Dogmeat, who leapt to his paws and padded over. Apparently the commotion hadn't bothered him in the slightest.

Hancock opened the door; light blazed in from the slats in the windows and the store's empty doorframe. He winced visibly and adjusted his hat to block most of it.

"Goddamn." Once the worst seemed to have passed, he pushed the door wider and gestured for her to go first. "After you."

Nora nodded and stepped through. Everything seemed quiet, and nothing had been moved while they had slept, which was a good sign.

Together they slowly made their way out of the bookshop and into the streets. Daylight never seemed to make much difference when it came to how many raiders or Supermutants were about, but it did make seeing them a lot easier. Dogmeat was an excellent judge of safety, though, and he was relaxed enough to indicate some level of quiet.

However, it became clear after about an hour of wandering that he had lost the scent. She offered the pillowcase that they had taken from Bobbi's house several times, but Dogmeat simply sniffed the air and whined in dismay.

"It's ok, boy." she pet him soothingly. "You did your best."

"It ain't ever easy, is it?" Hancock said. "Lucky for us, I've got a backup plan."

Hancock gestured with his shotgun towards the edge of the Common, out into the wilderness. "We head that way, and we'll hit Diamond City. There's a detective there, Nick-"

"Valentine." Nora finished for him, eyes widening in understanding. Of course.

"What, you know him?"

"He helped me... find someone. It was a couple months ago." Nora explained. Hancock cocked his brow but didn't pry.

"If anybody can find Sinjin, that bucket of bolts can." He stated firmly, and Nora had to agree. Why she hadn't considered Nick in the first place was a mystery.

But then Hancock's face twisted into a scowl. "Ugh, Diamond City."

"What's wrong with Diamond City?" Nora had to ask, after seeing his reaction. From her experience Diamond City was one of the nicer places in the Commonwealth, if filled with some... interesting townsfolk. The place had a school, and a hairdresser for goodness sake. If it weren't for the burgeoning town of Sanctuary and her work with the Minutemen, she might have considered settling down there.

Hancock's face didn't lose its expression of distaste.

"Tell ya what- we make it there, and I'll tell ya the whole story." He told her, before picking up the pace. Curious, Nora followed along, with Dogmeat beside her.

It was as good a motivation as any.


	8. Chapter 8

The next two days passed by in a blur. Conversation had become a little easier now that the ice had been broken, but nothing of real substance seemed to pass between them. Nora found herself grateful for that; she still had no intention of letting on exactly what her last few months had detailed. Going to see Nick could put that in jeopardy, but Nora had faith in the synth's sense of discretion. If there was anyone she had come to trust in the Commonwealth, it was Preston and Nick.

They didn't come across any more raiders, but there were a few bloatflies and a Supermutant in a suicidal rage. The quiet could be attributed to the path of destruction they'd chosen to carefully follow; tread marks, huge footprints and scorch-marked trees belied what could have only been a group of Brotherhood soldiers. The first set of tracks had made Hancock scowl, and Nora understood completely. She had even been surprised when he suggested following it close to Diamond City. If the Brotherhood chose to visit, there was no guaranteeing Hancock or Nick's safety. The thought of it made Nora bite her lip and tighten her grip on her pistol.

No small amount of luck had the tracks veering sharply to the right once they hit the border of the ruins surrounding Diamond City. The small party abandoned the smell of diesel and fusion cells for the shade of the ruins in twilight and the wafting smell of noodles.

The closer they came to the city, the stormier Hancock's mood became. His shoulders were hunched and he chain-smoked an entire pack before the walls were even in view. Words devolved into grunts of acknowledgement, and still he never offered an explanation. It was driving Nora crazy, wondering just how he knew the back roads better than she did. Having a well-armed, unhappy man stomping along ahead of her didn't help matters. Even Dogmeat was displeased; he kept swiveling his head between them. By the time they stopped at an old store, Nora's nerves were so fried that she had to say _something._

"Hey, Hancock?" she ventured slowly. Hancock was peering into one of the busted out windows, checking for hidden raiders. "Why are we stopping?"

"Just a quick pit stop. Can't go around makin' the locals jealous." Hancock replied as he pushed the door open and disappeared inside. It didn't exactly slake her curiosity, so she trudged in behind him. Dogmeat didn't follow- instead he padded along the outside of the door, keeping watch. Nora took that to mean that he felt the place was safe.

The store had probably housed something of value once, since there were broken glass cases filling the room, but it had long since been taken. Hancock slipped behind the counter and seemed to find what he was looking for, because his face broke into a rueful smile. He leaned down and began rummaging, and true to form, Nora leaned over the counter to see what he was doing.

It was a corpse. A very, very old corpse- just bones and a suit- but a corpse nonetheless. And Hancock was busying himself with removing the dead man's coat with the very knife he'd once slid effortlessly into a man's stomach. Nora jerked backwards from the counter and turned around, hands steadying her against the wood. Killing had become a daily reality, but somehow the bleached-white remains from before the war filled her with more remorse than raiders ever did. She could defend ridding the world of murderers, much as she hated it, but seeing the last signs of a more peaceful time was just... sad. And watching Hancock desecrate one of them wasn't pleasant.

"So," she began, "Is there a reason you're taking that poor man's clothes?"

"To the living, go the spoils." Hancock's voice came from behind her. "Gotta cover up the, uh, ghouly bits."

Nora's brows furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

She heard Hancock stand and turned back around to face him. He had strips of cloth that he began to wrap around his hands, covering up the rough, pink skin. The expression on his face was unreadable up until his face fell and he sighed, long and raspy.

"I guess I've put it off long enough... it ain't exactly a pretty story." Hancock knotted one hand's coverings and kept his eyes downward, focused on the task. She had the feeling he was avoiding her gaze. "Long time ago- thirty years, I think- Mayor McDonough and the folks in the city got it in their heads to run all of the ghouls out of town."

Nora blinked at him. "What, just like that? They... why?"

The horror rising up must have been obvious in her tone, because his eyes flicked upwards. "It was when McDonough first decided to run for mayor. Ran on a humanity shtick, got the upper-stands assholes to vote for him, and soon enough families with kids were lining up to throw people they'd called neighbor out into the ruins."

She felt bile rising up in her throat. Ghouls were certainly... odd-looking, but they were people first, and every inch of her being crackled with rage. How could anyone force people they knew out into the dangerous wasteland? She'd pursued law once with the ideal of ending this kind of unchecked hatred in the world, and it seemed like even the destruction of the planet hadn't taught them anything. It filled her with anger and despair all at once.

Had Hancock been one of them?

"They murdered those ghouls." She bit it out, mouth tightening into a grim line.

"Him and that whole damn city." Hancock agreed solemnly. "I tried to help the families settle into Goodneighbor, but most couldn't get used to the lifestyle. Eventually they disappeared."

Her anger was undercut by the look of... sadness, in his eyes. It confused her. Why should he feel remorse? It was a terrible thing, to be sure, and she was furious, but she hadn't taken Hancock to be the type to... care, so much. Normally he seemed completely at ease with the world but now he actually looked burdened. Something was wrong in her picture of him, but she couldn't figure out what it was.

They stayed like that for a few moments; the two of them watching each other. His eyes looked like they were searching her face, and she wasn't sure if they found what they were looking for, but he lifted a large piece of cloth and pointed to his own. "You mind?"

"Sure." Her mood didn't improve, but she took the fabric and came around the counter while he turned around. She slipped the cloth around his face and tied it around the back of his head. Any other time and she might have been more attentive to the uneven grooves and ridges of skin that outlined the back of his skull, but she still was having trouble reconciling the Green Jewel of the Commonwealth with the kind of place that would do such a thing. She'd taken Mayor McDonough for a toadying fool... not a ruthless murderer.

The dirty fabric hid much of his skin, and what it didn't hide the tricorn hat and high-collared frock coat did. If it weren't for the black eyes and lack of protruding nose, she wouldn't have been able to tell at all. Just another merc hiding himself from the harsh sun... all but for the strip of chest that his unbuttoned shirt revealed. She clucked her tongue and tugged at the frilled collar, pulling Hancock closer so she could do up the buttons.

"Honestly." She frowned at the shirt; threadbare, the buttons were threatening to come off entirely. She had to compensate with the leather belt slung from shoulder to waist, pushing it upwards to hold the fabric in place. When she was finished his skin was completely hidden, and she looked up to see the whole ensemble... and faltered.

Hancock was staring at her, eyes intense but otherwise completely unreadable without eyebrows or mouth. She noticed then just how close they had gotten and abruptly let go of his shirt and stepped back, hoping that would assuage him. Maybe he didn't like people messing with his outfit; it was worn and patched up enough to be sentimental.

"You're, uh," Hancock coughed into his hand through the makeshift bandana, "Pretty good at that."

Ice shot through her veins like lead from a pipe pistol.

All at once she remembered exactly how she knew how to do up the buttons on a men's shirt, and why getting so close hadn't bothered her. She'd been tapping into a happier time... of picket fences and men's ties and a husband who couldn't iron a shirt if his life depended on it. She squeezed her eyes shut against the image of a grinning, sheepish mouth and piercing blue eyes that crinkled when she had huffed and pushed buttons through holes. It hurt, it always hurt, and sometimes it never stopped.

Nausea hit her in full force and she spun quickly, taking a few metres in stride before grabbing one of the broken cases and leaning over, just heaving. She thought for sure she would throw up, but it never came- not enough food, maybe- but she wheezed anyway and beads of cold sweat trickled down her face.

She hadn't reacted this badly in months.

She was barely aware of the movement until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She flinched and Hancock retreated slightly, but she felt badly almost immediately and shot him a weak, apologetic look. She didn't want to offend him.

"Sorry, I..."

"Don't gotta say nothin' to nobody." His voice was firm, and his hand returned to give her shoulder a squeeze. It was more reassuring than she'd expected, and after a minute of deep breathing the tightness in her chest lessened and warmth returned to her limbs. A cold nose nuzzled its way into one of her hands, and she glanced downwards. Dogmeat must have sensed something was wrong, because he whimpered and rubbed his back along her legs.

She nodded when the worst had passed and Hancock pulled away. Together they exited the building without another word, Dogmeat never more than a foot from her feet.

The huge gate to Diamond City soon loomed overhead. It had once filled her with a sense of relative safety, but after Hancock's story she could only feel trepidation. Thirty years was a long time, she tried to reason. Piper wouldn't have been alive, and she could hardly imagine Nick being around to stomach that kind of cruelty. Only older folks would remember it ever happening, and Diamond City was full of children. There had to be hope yet.

The guards recognized her instantly and waved her inside, giving Hancock only a cursory glance. For some reason Mayor McDonough had always seemed eager to hear from her, and to let her come and go as she pleased, and even then it had made her suspicious. She'd taken advantage of it to get certain things done, like access to Kellogg's house, but now she felt vaguely ill just thinking about it. If she had her way, she'd never see that sad excuse of a human being ever again.

None of the security seemed bothered by Hancock enough to question him. He was still tense though, and gave them a wide berth as they descended the staircase into the stadium. They passed through the market with little fanfare and disappeared into the alleyways behind, following the bright neon signs to Nick's agency.

Nora pushed open the door. It was as tiny as she remembered, with stacked boxes filling up the space and two desks situated in the middle. Seated at the first desk was Nick, engrossed in a folder of some kind. Ellie sat at the second desk and looked up when the door opened, a bright smile on her face. She would have made for a great retail worker if she weren't such an excellent secretary.

"Nora! Welcome back!" Ellie announced cheerfully, and at last Nick took notice. He looked up from his work with a smile and moved his mouth as if to say something, until Hancock slipped into the room from outside. Nick blinked, and Nora could almost hear the confusion turning in his gears.

"This a friend of yours, Nora?" Nick cocked his head. "Not that... wait..."

"Heya, Nick." Hancock waved. Recognition lit up in Nick's face and he relaxed with a smile before standing up from his desk.

"Well I'll be damned, if it ain't the Commonwealth's favourite ghoul." Nick moved from around the desk and held out his hand. Hancock took it and gave it a firm shake while Nora looked on, more than a little surprised. Hancock had implied knowing Nick, but she hadn't expected them to be friends. Then again, she had to admit, they were among the two oddest people she'd met in the Commonwealth. It seemed natural that they'd find each other eventually.

They let go and Nick turned to Nora. "It's always a pleasure to see you, though I gotta say, didn't expect the two of you to come through my door at the same time."

"It's a long story." Nora replied. "One that we need your help with, Nick."

Nick cocked a brow and gestured for her to sit down in the chair opposite his desk. Ellie scrambled for paper and pencils while Nora took her seat. Hancock made himself comfortable leaning against the wall to the right, pulling down the cloth around his face.

"Now, what seems to be the problem?" Nick began.

Nora opened her mouth but Hancock got to it before she did. "It's Bobbi. She'd gone and run off with Sinjin."

Nora still wasn't completely sure who Sinjin was, but Nick seemed to know. His mouth pulled into a tight frown, and Ellie dropped the pencils and paper she'd gathered all over the table in surprise. One of the pencils rolled into Nora's lap and she rushed to save the rest while Ellie stuttered an apology.

"But... isn't Sinjin the one that..." Ellie shot Nick a worried look.

"Kidnappings, murders, the whole shebang." Nick's frown hadn't abated. "I've had too many cases that ended with 'Sinjin did it.'"

The picture was getting clearer now, for Nora at least. She had to ask though. "Is he as bad as Kellogg?"

Nick considered that for a moment longer than she was comfortable for. "Well, no, not on his own. But Kellogg didn't have a bunch of crazy raiders either, and our pal Sinjin has his fingers in plenty of places. Even Diamond City."

"Why is Kellogg our point of comparison here?" Hancock spoke up. Nora swallowed and shot Nick a meaningful glance, and he gave her one back. As if to say, well you'd better tell him _something._ She conceded to that and turned to Hancock, who was waiting expectantly.

"He killed my husband." The words came out cold and lifeless, more than she'd wanted, but remembering the whole thing put a hard expression in her face. Her revenge hadn't dented the pain like she'd hoped it would, or eased the sleepless nights, but it was something. "Nick helped me track him down, and we killed him."

Hancock blinked at her. He looked as if he almost didn't believe her, and she supposed she could understand that- her, a Vault Dweller, taking out an infamous assassin- but it passed and Hancock gave a nod of approval.

"Nice job." Was all he said, but she felt somewhat cheerier afterwards.

"Now, the trouble with Sinjin is you're gonna have to find out where he's holed up." Nick continued, grabbing both of their attentions again. "I'll do what I can here and pull in a few favors, but if I were you I'd talk to Vadim at the Dugout Inn. I've heard he's involved with some unsavoury folks, and they might just know where Sinjin is."

"Good idea." Nora nodded and stood up from her chair. If they were lucky, they would find out where Sinjin is quickly and without more trouble along the way. "I can't thank you enough, Nick."

"What good is an old synth like me if I can't help out a couple of friends?" Nick stood up too with a grin on his too-pale face. "Though when you get back from the Inn, you'll have to tell me how you two met."

"Can't you tell?" Hancock was at her side in an instant and slung his arm over her shoulders. Nora was surprised, but not unpleasantly so- she knew he was joking around. She did notice, though, that he had the distinct smell of cigarettes and berry mentats on his clothes. It wasn't even gross, just notable. "We're intrepid adventurers, hunting down the scum of the earth."

"And you met at what, a comic book convention?" Nick replied drily and Hancock laughed, deep and throaty. "Just come back before you chase down any leads, or I might have to chase you down myself."

"Consider us warned, Nick." Nora gently removed Hancock's arm and made for the exit, Hancock following behind. Outside was Dogmeat as always, waiting patiently as the metal door shut behind them.

"So, to the Dugout Inn?" Nora asked, turning to Hancock who was busy pulling his bandana back over his mouth.

"After you, sister." Hancock bowed and flourished his hand towards the alleyway, which made her laugh just a little.

She had to admit, he wasn't the drunk addict she'd originally taken him for. He was surprisingly accepting of her earlier outburst, and had shown sincerity in his account of what had happened in the city all those years ago. He could be funny, and was pretty charismatic. If Nick liked him, and Goodneighbor liked him, well... maybe she could come to like him too.

Though when her smile didn't abate as they walked in companionable silence, she had to wonder if she didn't sort of enjoy his company already.


End file.
